Beside Clearwater Pool.
Facing the cold wind, the steward stood beside Wu Yuanjun. After hesitating for a long time, he finally could not help asking, "Witch Lord, there is something this old servant does not understand."
"What is it?" Wu Yuanjun replied.
"Since it is an unrivaled family art, a legacy without equal, why not let Jing'er take it with him? He is your only son, after all." The steward looked at Wu Yuanjun's profile. "With such a treasure at his side, given time..."
A cold wind swept past, sending strands of hair flying.
After a long silence, Wu Yuanjun merely turned and murmured, "For someone else, taking it might be an opportunity; for Jing'er, it would mean certain death. The sovereign will never tolerate another White Python Clan Witch Lord surnamed Wu emerging in the Southern Border. Our generation has already fought all the next generation's battles. As a father, I hope he can live well."
The steward looked at the gray-haired Wu Yuanjun, speechless for a long time.
"Day has broken. Has everyone assembled in the hall?" Wu Yuanjun asked as he walked.
"They have."
"Then... convene the command council."
Facing the morning sun, Wu Yuanjun walked toward the Main Hall through the rosy light, his silhouette swaying.
An incense stick's time later, inside the Main Hall.
Dozens of generals from the mountain had gathered, standing in orderly ranks, all wearing silver armor with long sabers hanging at their waists.
Wu Yuanjun sat upright on the raised dais, his back straight. "All generals serving under my command on this mountain, step forward and hear my orders."
His breath was deep and strong, his voice resonant as a great bell. At that moment, his scholarly elegance vanished completely, leaving only the authority of a man who had commanded